


The Necromancer

by Ryne



Series: The Great Purge [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryne/pseuds/Ryne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nimueh fulfill’s Uther’s request. A prequel to <em>Bury Me Whole</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Necromancer

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as my drabble entry for prompt #5 on The Heart of Camelot — “choose any character who has lost their life on the show and bring them back from the dead” — but somehow it morphed into a full-fledged one-shot. Whoops.

Nimueh was standing at her window, staring blankly down into the courtyard at the hundreds gathered for the queen’s candlelight vigil, when someone knocked on the door. “Enter,” she said, not taking her eyes off the flickering flames.

 The door creaked open, and a shadowed figure stood in the entrance. “The king requests your presence, milady,” said a messenger.

 “Very well,” Nimueh replied, feeling surprisingly calm. She had thought that Uther would at least wait until morning to confront her, but apparently it was to be now, with Ygraine’s body and the reminder of her failure between them.

 The messenger escorted her down to the throne room, where Uther was kneeling before the queen’s bier, his head bowed and her hand clasped in his. Nimueh’s footsteps echoed in the room as the door closed behind her, and there was no noise aside from them until she stopped next to the king. “My lord?” she said when he did not speak. 

He did not acknowledge her, and Nimueh didn’t know what to do. It hurt to look at Ygraine’s face, hurt to see her unsmiling and so different than she had been in life, so she looked at the roses strewn on her body, and could only think of how her friend had never liked them, and had loved daisies more than any flower. Blinking away the tears prickling in the corners of her eyes, Nimueh pressed her palms together, muttered a spell, and laid her creation across Ygraine’s heart. 

 Uther finally stirred at that, raising his head to look at his wife’s still face. “Fix this,” he said faintly, drawing in a shuddering breath.

 She had not expected that. She had expected anger, accusations, blame; but this was a hundred times, a thousand times worse, because he was asking her heart’s desire of her, and she had to deny him. “I can’t,” Nimueh said softly, her heart breaking. “I wish I could — I want to, more than anything I want to, but magic doesn’t—”

 “Your magic killed her,” Uther whispered, and her breath left her all at once. “And now you will fix this, or you will be banished from this kingdom, and if you set foot in it again I swear you will be killed on sight, and your magic will not save you. Now _bring her back to me_.”

 “Uther,” she said desperately. “My lord, don’t—”

 “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, witch,” Uther spat, and finally turned to face her. She saw no trace of the king she served, even loved at times, and for the first time she was afraid; not for herself, because she knew that she could flee if she must, but for him, and what Ygraine’s death was doing to him. Then the madness faded from his face, and all that was left was a broken, desperate man who looked at her like she was his only lifeline. “Please,” he whispered, the only time that she had ever heard him beg, and even though her mind was screaming at her not to do this, her heart ached and forced her to nod. 

 “I will need my books,” she said quietly.

\- -o- -

It took half an hour to collect everything that she needed. She didn’t trust a servant to do it for her, because tongues would wag and she didn’t want the entire castle to know that she was bringing the queen back from the dead before it happened. The books she carried back into the dark throne room were ones that she had only read out of curiosity, because many of them had contained information on the Cup of Life and the power over life and death; but never had she thought that one day she would be performing the spells of necromancy contained within them. They had frightened her then, and she didn’t think she had ever been more terrified now that she was about to perform one. 

“My lord,” she said when the final preparations had been made. “Are you sure—? This is... This magic is not the way, my lord, she will not be—”

“Bring her back,” Uther said, and Nimueh stared at him helplessly. 

“I—” she started, desperate to make one final argument to convince him that this was a terrible idea, but she looked at Ygraine’s face, pictured it alive and happy once more, and came undone. “You will want to step back, my lord,” she said quietly, and Uther kissed his wife’s brow and moved to the corner of the room.

The incantation was a long one, and one of the most complex spells she had ever performed — more complex than using the Cup of Life, because that sprang from the Earth itself and this was so, so wrong. She walked widdershins around the queen’s body, then deasil, then widdershins once more, chanting in the Old Tongue, and could feel the power swirling and rushing out of her, more and more, and she felt so drained, as if the very life-force was leaching out of her and into— 

Ygraine’s eyes flew open; she sucked in a terrible gasping breath, and it was the most beautiful sound Nimueh had ever heard, far more beautiful than the little prince’s first wails had been before the bleeding had taken his mother. She sat up, strewing flowers everywhere, and Uther rushed to catch her, passing Nimueh as as she fell to her knees, struggling for air and feeling as though all her limbs were made of stone, and she watched through tears as he gathered his wife up in his arms and wept.

“Ygraine,” Uther said. “Ygraine, you’re back. You’re alive, you’re alive, Ygraine, you’re...” He couldn’t seem to speak after that, and only clutched her closer and took long, shuddering breaths of joy.  

The queen was coughing so hard Nimueh feared her ribs would break, but finally she managed to catch her breath enough to force words out. “Uther?” Ygraine said, and Nimueh choked on a hysterical sob, because she had hardly dreamt that she would ever hear her friend’s voice again, and why had she ever thought that this was a bad idea? The queen put her arms around her husband and turned her face into his neck. “Uther, what’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Uther said, finally drawing back and looking at her. He was practically vibrating with happiness. “Nothing will ever be wrong again, I’ll make sure of it, I’ll never lose you again, I swear it.”

“Lose me?” Ygraine repeated, looking puzzled, and reached up and placed her palm on his cheek. “Uther, I don’t understand — how did you — where’s Arthur?”

 “Arthur’s fine,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. “Arthur’s fine, he’s with his nurse, he’s alright. And now you’re here, and—”

“I want to see him,” Ygraine said, struggling to sit up on her own.

“Of course,” Uther agreed faintly, steadying her, and then said more strongly, “Of course. I shall send for him at once.” He traced her face with a finger, and leaned in to kiss her. “I love you,” he murmured, so faintly that Nimueh almost couldn’t hear it, but Ygraine giggled like a girl and Nimueh felt that her face would tear in two from smiling. She wanted to say hello to her friend, to cry and take her in her arms and never let her go, but she was still drained, and it was Uther’s time now. Besides, there would be time enough for that later.

Her spell had worked. It must have. Ygraine was alive again, and Nimueh knew that it was wrong, knew that there would be consequences, but forced herself to forget that it should never be.

\- -o- -

It was when Uther finally turned away to call for the guards that the queen first gave a sign that something was wrong. He hadn’t even gotten the words out to summon them before Ygraine’s gasp of pain made him whirl around again. “Ygraine?” he said worriedly as she clutched at her stomach and tried to stifle a groan. “Ygraine, what’s—” 

“I’m fine,” she said, sounding anything but, and then let out a cry of agony that tore through the atmosphere of happiness like a knife, and curled around her midsection as though she was being stabbed.

“Ygraine!” cried Uther, wrapping his arms around her as she cringed away. “Ygraine! Nimueh, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

Nimueh had forced herself to her feet at the first sign of distress, feeling the weight of a thousand ages but shoving it aside to inch to Ygraine’s side. “I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “I don’t know what -- lay her back, I need to see—”

They forced her to uncurl and stretch back out on her bier, and Nimueh wondered that the guards didn’t come bursting through the doors because Ygraine’s cries were terrible, and she knew they were the sounds of dying. “Ygraine, hold on,” she urged, reaching out to stroke her brow as the queen arched her back in agony, and felt tears pricking at her eyes again because she knew it was futile. “Ygraine, don’t — stay with us, Ygraine, _don’t leave again_ — she’s cold, she’s so cold, she’s lost too much blood—”

“ _Do something_ ,” Uther ordered her, desperation making his voice harsh.

The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “I’m sorry, the spell can’t fix that, it couldn’t ever fix that, she’s going to—”

“ _Damn your spells!_ ” Uther roared, and she was looking at the half-mad king again, his eyes wild and glittering. “Damn your spells, damn your magic, damn you! _Save her!_ ”

“I can’t,” Nimueh said, but tried anyway, said every spell she could think of, every spell that she had tried back when the queen had bled out the first time, and nothing happened, not even a surge of power, because Nimueh was already so drained that she could hardly stand but she gladly would’ve given that up too if Ygraine would live. “I _can’t_ ,” she repeated, hardly able to speak through her tears, because this was the second time that she had watched her friend die and she still wasn’t able to save her. 

And Ygraine wailed one last time, the otherworldly sound of a soul being ripped out, and stilled once more.

Silence echoed in the throne room, broken only by Nimueh’s wretched sobs and Uther’s ragged, uneven breathing. “What have you done,” Uther said quietly. She couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to see the hatred in his eyes, because she had only been trying to help. “ _What have you done!_ ”

He dragged her to her feet and shook her, and Nimueh didn’t resist. “You promised to give her back to me,” he said lowly, holding her wrists so tightly that she could feel the bones rubbing together, and Nimueh didn’t protest the lie. “You brought her back and then you took her away. Your magic killed her once, and your magic killed her again. _What_ — _have_ — _you_ — _done?!_ ” 

And then he flung her to the ground, looming over her as she curled away, weeping as if her heart would break because it already had, and worse than before. “You are banished forthwith from Camelot,” Uther spat out, the fury coiled in his voice making it crack like a whip, “under pain of death. Leave now and never return, sorceress, for you and your kind are no longer welcome here.” 

A sick jolt of fear laced through her at his words, because she didn’t understand them but they sounded mighty and terrible and prophetic. And as the guards dragged her out, as she begged and pleaded with Uther to listen to her, she felt as if she could sense the very shape of fate changing around her.

 And suddenly she feared for the future like never before.


End file.
